


A Friend In Need

by BipolarMolar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, Grief/Mourning, John-centric, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, Post Reichenbach, References to Suicide, Suicide, Tragedy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BipolarMolar/pseuds/BipolarMolar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A complete one-shot set after The Reichenbach Falls. John composes his suicide note. Of course there’s only one person he could address it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend In Need

**Author's Note:**

> I make no money from this, no copyright infringement intended. Please kudos, comment, rec, bookmmark, if you like. but above all else, enjoy! This is unbeat'd, so any mistakes are mine.

Dear Sherlock,

                       I didn’t stand a chance. I don’t really know why I’m writing this- a dead man can’t read, but that’s the thing- I can’t tell you how I feel. I could whisper to your grave, I suppose. Last time I visited it, laid some flowers down, Mycroft came to me. Said I’m dwelling on the past and that you wouldn’t want me to be miserable like this. I didn’t know what to say to that at first. I always believed in you, saw the things that other people didn’t see. True, you weren’t as…burdened with imperfections as most of us, but like it or not, you were still _human_. And he’s right- you wouldn’t want me to mope. In the end I said something like “Sherlock doesn’t want anything. He’s pushing daisies right now. So piss off, Mycroft, allow me to grieve” And he left. Before he left though, he said one thing. There’s something about the Holmeses, Mrs. Hudson and I used to agree ion this, that sharp glare, when trained on you…well, it’s like your soul is being examined. I doubt you even believe in souls, Sherlock. Anyway, Mycroft just looked at me and God, Sherlock, he looked so sad. He just said “This isn’t the act of a man grieving for a _friend_.” And at that moment, I knew. He knew.

 

I love you, Sherlock. For how long…I don’t know. But it’s like I said- _I didn’t stand a chance_. How could I, when a man as clever, beautiful as you comes into my life? I guess I’m just an idiot. But you were so ( I don’t really know what word I’m searching for here) _vital_ , I guess. Like the embodiment of London, you were constantly moving, sprouting out hypotheses, playing your violin, talking, deducing- you never stopped. The flat’s so quiet now. I could move, Harry wants me to, but I think it’d kill Mrs. Hudson. I haven’t moved your things- everything’s just as you left it, chaotic…familiar. Sometimes, I’ll walk in form work and it’ll be like you’re still there. Your shirt hanging on the back of your chair, papers in stacks on the table. And I’ll start talking, telling you what the weather is like, how my day went, and then…silence. I can’t stand that silence, Sherlock. I’ve been looking at my gun more and more.  So much so, I’ve started to like the taste of metal. In a strange way, it reminds me of you. You used to smell of gunpowder, and tea, aftershave. Living with you was like a game of Russian roulette- the excitement, the danger.

 

I haven’t updated

my blog for weeks. I have nothing to say. And nobody I want to hear it. I’d better make this quick, I’m going to visit you now.

 And if you were alive, you would have already deduced this by now- I’m taking my gun. And a bullet.

 I’m sorry, Sherlock, I’m just _so tired_ , tired of life without you. I plan to lie down, on the grass next your grave and…

See you soon.

                     John xx


End file.
